Chapter 3. Sunday.

6:15 A.M. Jim awoke with Cara and the missed opportunity, immediately on his mind.

Across town, Cara's bedside radio came on. A current hit played. It was one she liked. She turned it off and placed one hand on her chest. Condition normal.

She was exhausted and anxious. For most of the night, she had struggled to understand an uneasy feeling, a fear of sorts, without structure. Sleep had quickly turned to bizarre nightmares that left no residue beyond dark shadows and vague whispers. She awoke many times in a panic and lay awake, afraid of the images that sleep would bring.

She looked around the room, seeking comfort in the familiar surroundings that had welcomed her tired morning eyes for as far back as she could remember. The creamy pink wallpaper, the yellow curtains, the posters of some long-forgotten boy band she had liked a year ago, a lifetime ago. Until recently, she had felt safe and secure in the room. It was filled with her fondest memories captured in photos on the walls and trinkets on her desk. However, since her father’s death, the room had changed, or more accurately, she had changed. Memories were now painful. She yearned to forget the past, to take down the photos, to box the ornaments and souvenirs and move beyond them. For a moment at Dunluce, everything had seemed to fall into place. She had found renewed hope for the future and an acceptance of the past. Now, as she surveyed the dimly lit room, she felt further from both than she ever had.

Outside, the sun rose into a cloudless sky. By six-thirty, she was asleep.

Rick Kilroy and Jim had been best friends since they were five years old. They were brother close and shared similar tastes in just about everything. Academically they were average, although, for both, effort was much more of a hindrance to good grades than potential.

Rick arrived behind schedule at the harbor café. Jim was at a table on his phone. Rick approached him with a broad smile.

"Come on, Cara. It’ll be fun," Jim said.

He pointed at the phone and made a talking hand gesture. They both started sniggering.

"Sorry, Cara, uh, interference," Jim said. He was the master of the self-sourced distraction.

"Okay, if you don't want to go back up there, could we meet tonight?"

Initiated by a pained frown, he transitioned into listen-only mode, confirming his presence on the line with occasional incoherent mumbles.

Finally, the call came to an abrupt end with, "Don't be crazy! Don't call the police!" Then, "Cara? Cara, you there?"

"You blew it, Romeo. What's up with the police? She's bringing charges?" Rick quipped. "Did you nail her last night?"

"Yeah, what do you think?" Jim looked distracted. "We were up near Dunluce Castle and . . . and something strange happened."

"I like it. Something strange," Rick said.

Jim went over the events of the previous night. "Cara doesn’t want to go back up there," he said. "I need to pick up the stuff. You game?"

"Let’s go, man," Rick said, rubbing his hands and ready for adventure.

Cara sat on the edge of her bed, holding the phone. The more she thought about Jim’s call, the madder she became. The reasons were obvious. One, he had woken her when she desperately wanted to sleep. Two, he had shone a light onto the events of the previous evening, events she wanted to forget. And three, the one that bothered her most; he was going back up there. She had no explanation for her trepidation about his plan, and that perplexed her.

With her mind racing and further sleep not an option, she dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen. Her mother stood by the sink, looking out a window. Cara walked over and embraced her gently.

"What would I do without you?" her mother asked, tears in her eyes.

Cara had heard the question many times before. She hated it and could not avoid a pained frown. By September, she would be away at college in Belfast. Her dreams of escape were her mother's nightmare.

"You'll be fine," Cara replied as she always did. Neither believed it.